


Priorities

by dragonofdispair



Series: Unrelated Prompt Responses [26]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Desks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz is in medical. Prowl's not taking it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priorities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rizobact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/gifts).



> For Rizobacts prompt for the writing challenge.

Prowl drummed his fingers on the screen of the data pad in front of him. He could hear Optimus arguing with Megatron over the main comms screen of the  _Ark_ ’s bridge from his office. This was technically a good thing, since as a tactician he needed whatever information the Decepticon Warlord might drop about the weapon while he gloated. On the other hand… it made sitting here calmly formulating plans very difficult. All he really  _wanted_  to do was stand up and throw his desk and everything on it against the wall, but not only would that delay the formulation and implementation of very much needed plans, but that crash would be heard on the bridge — by Optimus definitely, but also potentially by Megatron and he refused to give the tyrant that satisfaction.

Negotiation was Prime’s sphere. Prowl’s was nullifying threats.

Hard to do when his prime tool for such work was in medbay, the weapon’s first victim. Starscream may be his own worst enemy but the seeker was canny. Megatron would have tried it on Optimus, and likely hit Ironhide instead. A blow to morale, but not crippling. Starscream had taken out the Autobots’ second in command, their morale officer, and the saboteur most able to destroy the weapon all in a single fell swoop. It was rare for Jazz to be so caught out, but Starscream was…canny. Prowl drummed his fingers again and he deliberately ran through all the political simulations of what would happen to the Decepticons if they had a second in command who wasn’t so often working cross-purposes to Megatron to remind himself as to why he didn’t just have Bluestreak shoot the fragger through the spark on one of his Primus-damned pleasure flights with his trine. It was tempting…

What further effects it might have on Jazz were yet to be determined.

He stopped tapping, lest he hit the data pad with enough force to crack it.

He should put this down, continue when he was less focused on reining in his emotions than on planning, but the simple truth was that this could not wait. He’d already rearranged everyone’s shifts and duties to focus on defending the  _Ark_  and each other until the uncannily clever seeker had been neutralized.

No trips to international chess conferences like the one he’d attended ten months ago, even though when he'd gotten back he and Jaz—It wasn’t even a consideration to him. Sacrifices had to be made, but other Autobots were not so understanding. Earth had thus far been remarkably  _safe_  compared to Cybertron and many Autobots didn’t appreciate that they were  _still at war_. No more concerts for Blaster or Ja—anyone else. No exploring for Hound and Trailbreaker. No trips to the city for Bumblebee and Tracks. Not until the threat had been contained.

They blamed him. Railed against him because he was the one who’d canceled all of their leisure activities but he was only trying to protect them. He  _wanted_  to contain the Deceptions and return them to their almost-safe existence here on Earth, but he couldn’t  _do_  it if they disobeyed orders. Ja—The other commanding officers would agree with him.

Prowl’s doorwings twitched, focusing on the still-heated argument on the bridge, Optimus’ voice rising to a volume that Megatron couldn’t just talk over and ignore.

Negotiation had it’s place. Maybe Megatron would eventually agree to ban such weapons from the fields of war in the future, but not as long as he had a functional prototype. Sabotage… Prowl’s fingers curled around the edge of the desk and it was only a supreme force of will that kept him from flipping the thing, damn Megatron’s response. He almost did it too. The weight and heft was so familiar that he could practically feel the almost imperceptible grain of the metal as he strained against it with all his strength. The release of the throw and resulting crash would be  _so satisfying_ …

His intercom beeped and he put the fantasy away. “Prowl here.”

Ratchet’s voice thrummed over the speaker in response. “He’s waking up. It’s probably best you come down here.”

“Of course.”

Anger and frustration weren't so much shed as they were packed tightly into a file marked Low Priority - Address this later.

He was a picture of cool efficiency and unaffected poise when he stepped out of the office and onto the bridge, where Megatron could see him. “And here’s the hero of the hour,” the warlord crowed. “How’s it feel to have your primary rival bedridden,  _Prowl?_ ”

Prowl didn’t so much as narrow his eyes. He didn’t stop. He didn’t respond at all. He just flicked a doorwing to indicate that he’d heard the taunt, then again in such a clear dismissal that even a mech lacking such appendages would understand the meaning as he left. The churning rage the warlord’s words called up joined the rest of his emotions in the low-priority file. He’d deal with them later.

“Burr,” just like the door to his office, the door out to the rest of the ship did nothing to muffle Megatron’s voice to Prowl’s sensors and it was obvious the warlord did not realize Prowl could still hear him after the door had closed. “I’ve always wondered how you hold that psychopath’s leash, Prime.”

If Prowl walked a bit faster to escape hearing his Prime’s response to that… well no one noticed, and he could deal with that later too.


End file.
